


Cages, Inside and Out

by mantisbelle



Category: RWBY
Genre: Aftermath of Canon Character Death, Break Up, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Interrogation, M/M, Mind Games, Prison, Tyrian Is His Own Warning, Written Pre-Volume 8 Trailer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: James Ironwood finds himself with 2 prisoners he never wanted to deal with, and then one extra that has no intent of staying put.
Relationships: James Ironwood & Arthur Watts, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood, Tyrian Callows/Arthur Watts
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Cages, Inside and Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConfessionForAnotherTime (MagpieCrimes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieCrimes/gifts).



> Wrote this months ago. Doesn't fit what's in the volume 8 trailer, figured I'd post it anyways.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> Based on a prompt from MagpieCrimes.

Having Arthur Watts in one of  _ his _ prison cells was something that was hard for James to wrap his head around. 

There were a great many reasons for it, of course. There was that James had mourned the other man years before, and had done everything in his power to bury his grief when the time had come where it needed to be buried. He'd forced himself to get up in the mornings, move on without the man that had been his right hand for  _ years _ , and do his job.

He was good at pushing through the grief and doing his job. That didn’t make it any less hard to do.

To know that Watts had still been in his life for years, and had been pulling strings and manipulating him and  _ hurting _ him had left James not sure where he stood anymore. 

To think that it would all come together when the world was already doing its best to end. 

Going down to Watts’ cell to kill him would be  _ too easy _ . After what had happened in Beacon, and what had happened in Vale, and what was happening in Atlas and Mantle, Watts certainly deserved a bullet or two for his actions. 

James wouldn’t do that though. For one, it would make him no better than Watts was. An extrajudicial killing was a murder, regardless of the reasoning or whether it was  _ deserved. _ James wouldn’t allow himself to stoop to that level twice in one night. He’d already made that mistake and he was  _ never _ going to get himself back from it. 

He had become exactly as monstrous as Watts had hoped. 

Such a pity. 

Deep down, James couldn’t help wonder whether it was a  _ surprise _ or not. This was the way that things had always been going, wasn’t it?

James was on the way down to the cell block. He and Watts were going to have  _ words. _ James was even considering giving the man a chance to do Atlas some good in exchange for his life or an easier conviction when the time came that courts were able to work again. The idea that James had was even one that he had a feeling Watts would  _ actively _ delight in taking part in. 

Having an android with the power of a the Winter Maiden was simply too much of a liability. James had no doubt that Watts would enjoy the chance to dismantle the P.E.N.N.Y. Project firsthand and by his own designs would give the man a certain sort of  _ rush. _

It was dangerous though, if the massacre at Hill’s rally was any indication. 

And  _ that _ left other problems and concerns open that James needed to address. More things that Watts could be useful for, seeing as Tyrian Callows was still running loose somewhere. It was only a matter of time before the casualties ballooned because of the faunus.

James was about to enter the elevator that would remove him from his office when his scroll went off. 

He paused and when he saw the message that he’d been sent, James felt his hands begin to tremble and his heart grew heavy in his chest. 

Clover Ebi declared dead on arrival. Perpetrator Qrow Branwen apprehended and en route. Robyn Hill accompanying. 

James reread the message over and over, trying to make sense of it. 

He didn’t know which part of it was the worst. Clover was dead— a man that James had been grooming for greatness when the time came for him. Clover was  _ dead _ and he was going to be just part of a statistic as soon as the battle for Atlas was over. Clover Ebi would be buried under countless other lives, little more than a name on the list regardless of whether James had kept him close. 

Qrow Branwen being labeled as a perpetrator was also concerning. That didn’t line up with the Qrow that James had known for years. The Qrow that he knew was one that would avoid killing other huntsman at any cost because he tried his hardest to distance himself from his own upbringing. The Qrow that James knew wasn’t a murderer. 

And yet, that was the report. 

Robyn Hill’s presence on the scene faded away among the other two.

James sent a quick response, requesting that Qrow be brought to the cell block where James would deal with him personally. Any available evidence was to be seized and entered into evidence.

He knew that he was only following through with the process. But it needed to be done. 

Regardless, James needed to get to the bottom of what was going on there for both his and Clover’s sake. Clover, who was no doubt being entered into a morgue where his body would be repaired to a certain extent before being kept on ice until the time came where he could be cremated as was the norm in all of Solitas’ settlements. Burying bodies in the tundra was too demanding and always only led to them being preserved. 

In the end, they all burned because it was  _ efficient  _ above all else.

Seemed like a fitting fate for both the kingdoms, when the time came that Salem arrived. Burning against a sea of black and white, the heat from the flames the only thing to keep the people from freezing and dying because Watts had turned off the heating grids.

When Qrow was brought in, James was already waiting by the cell block. As Qrow was walked past him, James gave his old friend and lover a  _ look _ , but said nothing else for both of their sakes. It was better if the worst of the situation went unacknowledged, at least until James had Qrow for a few moments of privacy.

James approached the cell, just before the door was to be locked. “I can handle it from here.” He said to the two soldiers that had brought Qrow in. “Leave us.” 

Both of the soldiers snapped a quick salute to him before hurrying off to defend the kingdom against the apocalypse. 

James stepped into Qrow’s door and let the door slide shut behind him. A biometrically linked chip in the palm of his prosthetic hand would be able to signal for it to open. Hardly the most secure thing in the universe, but it was never far from him so James allowed himself the convenience.

Qrow looked up at him, and James immediately saw the exhaustion and regret that was written clearly across Qrow’s features, so obvious that James couldn’t have possibly missed it. 

For just a moment, both of them stared at each other, neither of them quite knowing what to say. James didn’t know what to say to Qrow, that was for certain. If the story that he’d been given was true, then James had no interest in Qrow beyond giving him the bare minimum in Atlas’ legal system. If Qrow had been the one to kill Clover, then he deserved to rot in a prison just like every other person in that cell block. He deserved worse than to rot, but Atlas had more or less done away with the death penalty at the same time as the rest of the Kingdoms had. 

Although, James supposed being in a cell when Salem reached them would ultimately be a death penalty in itself.

Qrow was the first to speak. 

“James—” He swallowed weakly. “I swear to the Brothers I didn’t—”

“Stop.” James cut Qrow off, so fast that it probably could have given the man whiplash. “Explain. Now.” 

Qrow’s head dropped, he buried his face in his hands. “You have to believe me.” He gasped out, and though Qrow sounded like he was about to cry James could hardly find it in himself to empathize. Any other time and James would have been the first one at Qrow’s side, the first one to hold him up and put him back together, and offer him support. 

In hindsight, it almost felt one-sided. Just the same as every other relationship James had entered into. 

“Just  _ explain _ .” James replied, keeping his voice hard and resisting every urge in his body that wanted to rush forward and smash Qrow’s head into the hard wall of the cell. “Why was I informed that one of my best men was killed  _ by you? _ ” He asked. “Why is Harbinger being entered into evidence at this very moment?”

“Tyrian Callows was there.” Qrow answered, almost desperately. “He— He took the whole thing over. You have to believe me.” 

How could James honestly believe a word that Qrow said when he’d been complicit in all of the lies that had led to the chaos outside? How was he expected to be able to look back on a single thing that had happened over the previous months without all of it being  _ tainted _ with lies? 

When he had wrapped his arms around Qrow in what had felt like a desperate attempt to hold onto something fleeting, James had done it in complete truth. He’d simply wanted a moment with the man that he'd loved for years. 

Qrow had hugged him back, then. It had felt  _ warm _ then.

He’d hugged him back  _ knowing _ the weight of everything which was being kept secret. 

That moment of comfort had been a lie. Any goodness that it had once had was lost. The warmth had long faded.

James Ironwood felt the memory twist and bend into something wrong and sickly, a weight in his chest that he would never be able to rid himself of because he would never hold another in the same way again. 

His arm was destroyed, and he couldn’t be sure whether or not he’d be able to keep it. 

A part of him was tempted to ask for the amputation. It was a process that had become familiar, one he’d be able to breeze through with relative ease compared to having to heal slowly. In many ways, it was advantageous.

Once that was done, James would never hold someone and feel their warmth. He would never be able to touch without fear of giving too much pressure and hurting them. The softness that had been left to him would be cut away the same as his limb would be. 

Maybe that was a good thing, to lose that bit of softness. When had it ever done him any good?

To think that the last time in which James had gotten to enjoy those small pleasures of life would be a lie. 

Oh, to be as  _ heartless  _ as they said. What a boon that would have been.

James swallowed hard and kept his back military straight, like the metal pieces that reinforced and supported him were a single rod that was the only thing that kept him upright. 

He needed to say something. He needed to do something to maintain the veneer that he was in fact a strong leader who was doing the best by his kingdom. He could not be a man that was concerned over whether he’d experience human touch again. 

If his gloves could have been thicker and shielded him from that hurt, he would get them thicker. 

“What happened to Ebi, Qrow?” He asked, voice deadly serious even though James felt more like he was about to collapse and fall apart. 

Qrow swallowed. “Callows got loose.” He began to explain. “He turned all of us against each other, and Clover—”

“As it has been reported to me,” James took over. “Clover Ebi was found having been run through with  _ your _ sword.” Serious and deadly as the grave. 

“It was Callows—” 

“Then why your blade, Qrow?” James asked. “Huntsmen do not wield each other’s weapons except in dire circumstances. You have heard it as many times as I have. They are extensions of ourselves. So  _ why _ ?”

Qrow took in a breath so sharp that James couldn’t miss the suddenness of it. “It was—” He began to stammer out, choking as his words as he tried to reach some sort of conclusion that James had no choice but to  _ doubt. _

This was not the man that had never lied to him before. This was not the man who had usually taken care to refer to him by his name rather than a title or surname. This was not the man who had shared his bed, or had sat beside him while he’d lain comatose because his body was being patched together with whatever could be put together to make him work. 

The Qrow that James had known was long gone, replaced to a pretender to his name who would hide and conceal information to the point of quickening the downfall of a kingdom. 

“I can’t trust you anymore.” James said quietly. “I hope that you realize that.” 

“Yeah.” Qrow gasped out. “I think I got that.” 

“You shouldn’t have hid it from me.” James mumbled. “Perhaps things would be different if you hadn’t.” 

“I’d like to think so.” Qrow breathed out, voice cracking. “You think I did it?”

James let out a slow breath. “I think that there is more than enough evidence that points in your direction. Consider your story  _ carefully.” _ James instructed. “You’ll want it clear and straight should you ever see fair trial. I’m not making the assumption that any of us will have the luxury of living that long.”

Qrow didn’t make any protest, and so James left him. He had more important things to do. Plying some sort of cooperation from Watts would have to be a priority, first for turning the heat back on in Mantle, and then in creating a plan for where to go next. 

The Arthur Watts that James knew was a man who would do just about anything should it mean that he would get to cling to his life or reputation. The fact that he was a man that had successfully faked his own death was evidence enough of that. 

He’d orchestrated a situation in which he could die a  _ hero _ . Killed at work upon one of his own inventions, one meant for the front lines of the kingdom’s defense. Not a man who had grown angry over the treatment of his work, nor a man who had pettiness in every bone of his body. In the eyes of the public he was a hero. 

In the eyes of everyone that knew him, he was a bitter man who had gone to the grave in disgrace. All to come back years later with a grudge and in service of someone who would bring the end of Remnant as anyone knew it. 

James wasn’t entirely sure how he would convince Watts to cooperate. He couldn’t be sure that doing so was even  _ possible. _ The grudge that split them was one that was too bitter and stretched back for too long. The P.E.N.N.Y. Project may have been the final straw that had finally driven Watts to leave, but the divide had been brewing for long before then. 

They’d been friends, once. 

James and Qrow had been friends once too.

Two relationships, tainted by lies and grief and anger. He’d never be able to get back either, the same way that he’d never be able to find a way to mend them. He and Watts were dead to each other. 

Qrow had killed Clover Ebi in cold blood, and James could never excuse that. 

Watts’ cell was near the end of the block, one of the few cells that was kept closed with analog technology. 

Admittedly, putting one of the highest threat and highest priority criminals in one of the most simple cells available was at least  _ somewhat _ of a stupid decision. But Watts was not a man whose talents rested in picking physical locks. The cells in that are were given additional electronic measures, but James didn’t trust those as long as Watts was in the premises. 

A man who could bend technology to his whims with as little as the movement of a finger was not a man to be trifled with. 

James stopped outside of the cell and considered it. He knew the man just inside all too well, and James  _ did _ fear that he would find himself with more than he’d originally bargained for. That was the sort of man that Watts was— he was a pain in the ass because he had learned that the best way to get what he wanted was by being a pain in the ass. Watts would do exactly what he could do best and he would talk until james had fallen to his arguments. 

Even disarmed, bruised, bloodied, and burned, Arthur Watts was a threat. He was a man who ran in the company of serial killers like Tyrian Callows and didn't even care that he was doing so. 

He could not be underestimated under  _ any _ circumstances whatsoever. 

James slid his fingers down into his pocket. He was one of the very few people with access to a master key. If anyone were to find a way to steal it there would of course be problems. But James never left that possibility open because he decided to bring the key everywhere that he went on him. 

He needed to talk to Watts and see what bargains could be made with the Queen of Grimm. 

As much as James wanted to keep Watts in lockdown forever and fight  _ and _ win in a large battle against Salem, he doubted doing as much was possible. 

James slid the key into place, carefully turned it and listened for the quiet click to tell him that the cell was indeed unlocked. It was only the first layer of security, but it was one that needed to be passed through nonetheless. 

He pushed the door open and then pulled it closed behind him, careful to lock it once he was done. Next James was faced with an electronic lock (one which he was able to bypass with as little as the wave of his hand. The access chip embedded in the palm of his prosthetic hand had been an unorthodox choice for an upgrade, but it was one that James used liberally. 

In Atlas, there were always doors that needed opening and James had a feeling that the access chip would be more useful than ever before in the light of his most recent injury. He didn't have two hands to rely on, at least for the time being. Eventually James would have his arm replaced with something metal and stronger and better. But that day hadn’t quite yet come, and James could still handle a manual lock so there was no need for the change. 

Not yet, at the least. 

The final layer of security was in the form of another one of the manual locks, attached to a steel door that had a tiny bulletproof window which James could peer through to see the man that was being kept inside. 

That was where he made his mistake. 

Had James checked through the tiny window, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised by what he found inside of Arthur Watts’ allegedly secure prison cell.

He wouldn’t have been surprised by the fact that Watts was apparently not alone, with another man straddling his lap and an untidy hole that had been cut into the window (James would realize later that the surface hadn’t been  _ cut. _ It had been corroded, neatly and with precise control.)

The scorpion faunus that was in Watts’ lap didn’t even seem to notice that James was there, and if he did he certainly didn’t seem to  _ care _ . His tail, at least partially a prosthetic, swayed behind him almost comfortably as he kept his lips smashed against Watts’. 

James cleared his throat at the door and watched that wicked tail curl and point at him, growing ever so slightly longer as the stinger began to eject. 

Watts was more caring and observant. He knotted his fingers in Tyrian Callows’ dirty torn shirt and pushed him away enough to get some space. Tyrian moved back with a pout, but soon both of Salem’s agents had their eyes directly on James. 

James was glad that he still had Due Process at his side. He was all but certain that Callows was at least still armed. Even without a weapon the man’s tail made for quite the threat. James wouldn’t underestimate the faunus, no matter the cost. A working stinger, prosthetic or not, was more than enough to potentially change the tides of a battle when it came down to it. 

Tyrian gave James a look. “You could have  _ knocked. _ ”

“And you shouldn’t be here.” He said, his hand already sliding down to his side so that he could retrieve Due Process. “Callows.” 

“Please, General.” The serial killer replied, almost playfully. “ _ Callows  _ was an old master's name. I am but only Tyrian.” 

James trained his gun on th faunus, hopeful that the threat was clear enough. 

Watts cleared his throat. “Tyrian, enough.” he said, and James was surprised to see that the thin man in his lap did actually take the moment to give Watts an almost concerned look over the order. “I’m sure that the General has come with a legitimate request of some sort.” 

James grit his teeth. “I was here to retrieve you.” He grumbled to Watts. “But it appears that I am  _ interrupting something. _ ”

“You could have knocked.” Tyrian commented again, without a care for the fact that he was there in the cell when he wasn’t supposed to be. 

“And I suspect that you two should have already been gone.” James growled back. Dancing around the obvious fact of what was meant to be a breakout wasn’t worth it. “So I suppose I am interrupting.” 

Watts sighed. “Tyrian, off.” And just like that he let the faunus’ shirt go and Tyrian got up off of Watts’ lap in an awkward motion. When Tyrian looked at James, it was with a snarl and eyes that were lighting up purple with angry aura. 

James glared down at Watts. “I was going to request your help.” He began to explain. “Both in bargaining and in protecting Mantle.” 

“You’ve come too late.” Watts bit back at him. “If that was truly what you were meant ot be looking for. ”Both of these cities are about to burn. It’s only a matter of time before more chaos befalls you.“ 

James swallowed, but did his best to hide his obvious case of nerves. “If Salem is truly at our door—” And James had no doubt that she was already there. What he had seen of her would be more than enough to take over his nightmares for decades to come. “I don’t know that more chaos is possible.” 

“Oh, but General.” Tyrian began to speak gesturing widely and theatrically in a way that made it so obvious that he was better suited to a stage than a cell. “Such a shame that you don’t see the  _ beauty _ that has befallen you. Your law and order, your rules. Such  _ ugly _ things. There is beauty in the unpredictable.” His expression split into a wide, manic blade-sharp smile, and an uncontrolled giggle began to burst forward from the man’s lips. “I think that you should learn to love what you have.” 

“Tyrian—” Watts almost began to protest, only to be cut off before he could say anything else. 

James kept Due Process trained on Tyrian. He wasn’t going to allow himself to be disarmed by the man’s personality. 

Tyrian gave James an almost pitying look. “Did you hear of the gift you were left?”

Gift. 

Qrow had been saying that Callows had been present when Clover had died. 

“You mean Clover Ebi.” James said, sure to keep his tone as steady as he could possibly manage. “I’ve heard.” 

Watts gave Tyrian a look that James couldn’t help but notice was  _ impressed. _ “One of the Ace Ops?” He asked, clearly seeking the confirmation more than anything else. James doubted that Watts of all people wouldn’t know who the Kingdom’s elite hunters were. He would have found their files or gained access to their mission logs when he got Jacques’ council password. 

It simply wasn’t an actual question coming from Watts. It was a taunt, and hardly a hidden one. 

Tyrian’s giggling intensified. “You should have  _ seen _ it!” He called out, not a care for whether they were caught or whether James called for reinforcements. “How wonderful he looked when he bled out in the snow. Wine dark on the white,  _ such _ a nice sight. Mistral never allowed for such beauties, always so  _ warm. _ ”

He was sick. 

James  _ knew _ that Tyrian Callows was sick. He'd gone over the case files for him several times over his years as General. He’d been somewhat in the loop when Callows had first been in the process of being investigated, and had reviewed the documents when Callows’ prisoner transport had been attacked and all they’d had from the Black Box had been that…  _ disturbing _ recording. 

Ruby’s claim that Callows was in Mantle had made James go back to the old information on file in the hopes that he’d be able to have a better idea of what he was meant to be dealing with. 

The man had been briefly nicknamed  _ The Butcher of Kuchinashi _ for a reason. The bodies that had been recovered were never in one piece. Some had appeared to have been impaled (in hindsight, likely a result of Tyrian’s tail,) others had been sliced and attacked so badly that they’d been nearly torn apart entirely. 

The report on Clover Ebi’s death that James had been given was hardly a fit for Tyrian Callows’ established modus operandi. 

“Don’t sound so proud of yourself.” James grit out, not willing to acknowledge that he too had killed that same night. Callows may have been the deadliest man in the building by a large margin, but James considered what he’d done that night to be much worse. 

Although, he couldn’t imagine that Callows would have hesitated to attack or kill a child as James had. 

He'd never forgive himself for it. 

“Enough with the teasing, Tyrian.” Watts said, standing up and smoothing his clothes down in an attempt to make it seem less like he’d been in a compromised position when James had come in. “Playing with your food will never get you anywhere. It never has.” 

“My food?” Tyrian questioned, his hand flying to his chest like he was clutching at pearls around his throat. “Are—” He began to snicker. “Are you truly blaming  _ me _ for killing the little Ace Op? Oh, no no  _ no _ . I would never do such a thing. And even if I did—”

_ He would _ . James made sure to keep it in mind. 

“—then why would Qrow Branwen’s blade be the one running the little fisherman through. My blades have no use for such an attack. They slice and cut and lacerate but  _ piercing _ is hardly their use. What you are suggesting I’ve done… well, it’s just  _ so _ far from correct.” And in one motion, Callows’ expression split into the violent sickle smile. “A butcher does not pierce, General.” 

James swallowed hard, and for just a moment he understood the fear that he'd seen in all of those reports about Callows that he’d read over the years. He understood the paranoia that Pickerel had been exhibiting in the days leading up to Callows' escape, and then Pickerel’s own subsequent death. He understood why Qrow had seemed to consider Callows to be  _ hunting _ him in the oddest way.

And yet, James couldn’t help but know that on some level, the scorpion was  _ correct. _ Clover’s killing, as it had been reported to him was indeed a  _ brutal _ one, but the craft of it was wrong. 

Ever since Qrow had told James what his upbringing was, James had never quite been able to shake that knowledge that Qrow was a bandit by birth. As much as he acted like he’d fully broken away from that life, at the end of the day James knew that Qrow Branwen had attended Beacon Academy to learn to kill huntsmen. Harbinger had been forged with that very same intention. 

Perhaps then they had finally met their purpose. Cutting down Huntsmen that were well in their prime, just as they had Clover. 

“The facts of the matter are simple, General.” Tyrian said, his expression softening into something that was  _ almost _ sincere. “Your problem is not with me, it is with Qrow Branwen. He is the one that cut down your little fishing boy. I was merely concerned with removing myself from the cold. It is  _ so _ unforgiving.” 

Watts scoffed. “Enough, Tyrian.” He grumbled. “You’ve made your point.” 

“Perhaps I have, then.” Tyrian took a step towards James, which only made James raise Due Process on instinct. Letting the man in any closer was a death sentence. “Such a shame that I would meet one of the great huntsmen of our time under such circumstances, General. To think that I would know so much about you—”

James shot Watts a panicked look, only to get a devilish smile in return. 

Of course the two of them would be trading information. 

How could he have been so  _ stupid _ to let himself miss it? 

“That's enough.” James growled out. “I need to speak to Watts.” 

“James, I was under the impression that you and I had already spoken about everything that needed to be discussed.” His old partner said, voice too calm and as arrogant as ever. Always a pain in the ass. “Tell me, did you like what you found in my bag?”

James felt his hand waver, for just a moment. 

How could he forget what had been in Watts’ bag? How could he ever hope to forget the unforgiving chill that had settled in the room, or Salem’s form and how she chose to make herself so  _ massive _ in comparison to him? How could he ever imagine forgetting that? 

“I can’t say that I did.” James replied, a bit hesitantly. “I would have rather I hadn’t.” 

“That is truly too bad.” Watts commented, too easy and calm and relaxed for James’ taste. “Seeing as she  _ specifically _ wanted to speak to you.” 

All at once, a thousand things and more slotted into places that they hadn’t been before. A new image painted itself in James' head, one where the context of Watts’ actions all played together to one specific end. 

If Watts was to believed, he’d allowed himself to be arrested for the sake of setting up a pathway for Salem to reach James  _ personally. _ He would have known that James would have taken anything seized back to his office for inspection. 

But James hadn’t had the time for an inspection. He hadn’t had time for  _ anything. _

“How long had you been carrying that…”

“Seer.” Watts filled in the name of the grimm offhandedly. “They’re standard equipment when I am in the field. She always likes to remain in touch, and I’m sure you can imagine how much of a pain getting her to use a scroll would be.” 

It felt like a sick joke. 

James swallowed. “Did you leave one with Lionheart?” 

“Yes.” Was the too-easy answer. “I’m sure you’ve heard how he met his end. You could consider yourself fortunate that she’d wanted to speak to you directly.” 

James swallowed hard. 

Callows crept forward, if only slightly. “What did you think?” He asked, voice hushed and reverent. “When you looked upon a Goddess, what did you think? Did she strike fear in your heart? Did you see beauty?” 

“He would have felt fear if he’d had a heart to fill with it.” Watts replied. “But James and I both know that's not the truth. For all the compassion in the world which you are  _ so nicely _ throwing away, and I can’t thank you enough. There’s no heart beating in that chest of yours.” 

Tyrian gave Watts an attentive look, his bright yellow eyes wide and almost excited as Watts laid out the precious secret which was the very reason that James had needed to retire years before. Officially, he’d left the field after suffering repeated injuries which were too severe to justify risking himself further. 

The truth, and that truth was one which Arthur Watts was  _ intimately _ familiar with, was that James’ injuries had gone far past the extent of simple amputations. He’d had entire organs replaced in one way or another. 

When it had become clear that the amount of strain on his body was too much, his heart had been replaced as well. What had taken its place was cold, mechanical, artfully crafted by Watts’ own hands. His masterpiece, once.

And there Watts was, handing one of the deadliest men to ever walk Remnant the keys to kill him without so much as a care. 

James lowered his gun, just slightly. Just enough that it might have been able to theoretically dissuade away from an attack that would ultimately leave him dead. 

“Good man.” Watts replied, voice too easy. “I’m so glad that you’re able to see things my way. Perhaps she might even spare you yet, James. Though I’m not sure that I can say as much for the people of Mantle. I’m sure you must be  _ heartbroken _ knowing that you’ve abandoned them so.” 

Tyrian giggled. “They’ll burn like the little rats they are.” When he said it was less speculation than it was a promise. “Seeing as nobody listened when the canaries in their mine were dying off.”

James shot the scorpion a confused look. 

The man’s bright eyes flashed to purple again, so volatile a shade that it was almost  _ staggering. _ How many people had gone to the grave with that purple being the last thing that they would ever see? 

“You doomed your own people, James.” Watts spoke up. “To think that you would have managed to  _ under react _ after the Fall of Beacon, and after the attack on Haven as well.”

“Haven was a failure.” 

“Only in name.” Tyrian laughed. “The building didn’t need to fall or crumble. The academy is still of no use, although—” His voice turned to an almost playful croon. Faux-comforting, even. “We must wonder what became of its greatest treasure. Her grace is so very interested in its whereabouts.” 

James let out a low sigh. Leaving the lamp with the children had been a mistake. They’d gone off with the lamp, and with the power of the Winter Maiden as well. He had absolutely nothing left aside from the Staff of Creation and that—

He couldn’t allow it to be taken. Not when it would doom both of the Twin Cities of Solitas without fail. James had his doubts that Salem would give him the room to land Atlas safely either. If it fell, they were all going to die. Everything that he’d ever worked for, everyone he’d ever cared for. 

Gone in the blink of an eye, and falling breaking twisting metal. 

And if Amity Arena was raised and the new tower was turned on, the entire world would get to watch an entire kingdom die live on television. 

The grimm would come so quickly that the other kingdoms would hardly be able to protect themselves against the onslaught. The secret of Salem’s existence would die with Atlas and Mantle. 

The rest of Remnant would be absolutely powerless. 

James Ironwood knew perfectly well that he was on the front lines against her. Whether or not anyone else saw that so vividly, he wasn’t sure. 

Watts let out a breath. “I think that you understand how great of an asset you are, James.” 

Outside, beyond the broken and cut glass of the cell, there was the sound of a Nevermore’s cawing. “You’d do well to consider what we’ve discussed here.” Watts said, taking a half-step back away from James and towards the window. Tyrian all but slid down into position in front of Watts, raising his stinger in a threat to keep James from firing. 

The madman stared up at him with a volatile grin across his face. “One does not make the Queen wait, little soldier. But worry not, dear General—” and  _ gods _ how James wanted Tyrian to drop the odd niceties. “She rules with a gentle hand rather than your iron fists, and she's  _ much _ kinder to those that come to her willingly. I hope you make the right decision, and if you don’t—”

The sick laughter started again. 

“I can’t  _ wait _ to begin the hunt.”

“Enough.” Watts cut Tyrian off before he could say anything else. “We have an appointment to make. I’m confident that the General will make the right decision. And when he does, he knows that he only needs to make the call.” 

James swallowed hard. 

“I have one more thing I would like to say, Doctor.” Tyrian cooed, standing up tall and his tail lowering disarmingly. “Something of  _ such _ importance. I’d hate for it to go unheard.” 

“Then say it.” Watts answered as another nevermore cawed. “You know not to keep her  _ waiting. _ ”

Tyrian swayed up next to James, so close that he could feel his breath. The scorpion leaned in, and James realized then that he was almost exactly Qrow’s height. “Would you like to hear a secret, General?” He asked, voice going honey-smooth all at once. James couldn’t help but worry about the proximity of  _ teeth _ to his ear. “I think you’d find it so very helpful to hear.” 

James swallowed hard in an effort to remain resolute and unshakable. Whatever it was that Tyrian wanted him to hear, James didn’t want to be the one to have to listen to it. Whatever was said to him would only be toxic, chosen to sicken and destroy him. 

The scorpion’s surprisingly cool breath puffed against James’ ear. “Your little ace op made the  _ sweetest _ sounds when he died.”

James nearly felt his heart stop beating in his chest. 

“Oh, how I wish you could have seen it.” Tyrian continued on, his thing fingers knotting in James’ collar so that he couldn’t get away. “He fought so  _ loyally _ for you, your trained little pet. And when he died your sweet little bird  _ cried _ so beautifully.” 

The fingers released and the scorpion broke into a manic laugh. “And it all happened because of  _ you. _ ” Tyrian stared at James with bright purple eyes that glowed with a semblance. James felt what was almost like a pressure against his own aura, weak as it was. He refused to bend, even if he wanted nothing more than to break and to hurt and to destroy everything that he had built up around him. 

“I should have you killed.” James growled out. 

The scorpion laughed. “You should.” He admitted, almost playfully. “But you know just as well as I that you are not capable of such a thing.” 

James was a second from raising the gun when he felt something wet make contact with his face. He squinted his eyes to protect himself, and when he had barely finished wiping whatever it was away, Tyrian and Watts were both gone. 

Only a hole in the window was left. 

James’ grip tightened around his pistol. 

He’d let them into his head, and Atlas and Mantle were both about to pay the price. 

Everything that the two men were doing was salt in the wound and spit in the face, even in the most literal sense. 

How had he ever been allowed to lead anything, if he would only shepherd his people to their deaths?

**Author's Note:**

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